The short, skinny guy in his late twenties with crazy long hair, moustache, and a backwards cotton Def Leppard cap, usually seen shirtless riding his ten-speed with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Our’s was named Fudge Dread.
His name may bear a slight resemblance to the film Judge Dread, but Fudge was around long before that. The funniest thing was that he would tag the word “Fudge” on almost every building in the neighborhood. Most graffiti artists make attempts to remain anonymous. Not Fudge.
Fudge was often seen hanging out with “Dean”. The kid notorious for stealing everyone’s bike or skateboard and was rumored to run a chop-shop in his back yard. My neighborhood has long-since been swallowed whole by the Yuppie Invasion and all the cars on cinder blocks in the fron yards have disappeared. The rope swing hung from the underworkings the 150’ tall Bridge at the ravine(that produced most of my major childhood injuries) has also been removed by the morally-responsible neighborhod parents.
The hobby shop that plastered the walls of it’s restroom with 1980’s Playboy centerfolds has been replaced by a French bakery, and the video arcade that was a front for a small-time drug ring has been replaced by a Jamba Juice. The only dirty, smoky bar within walking distance(the one that helped me cover my walls with Spuds Mackenzie posters) has been replaced by a dentist’s office and the old S&M corner market now houses a gardening store that sells those pathetic patina’d frog door-stops.
Whatever happened to the good old neighborhood…it’s all gone uphill.